One Love Many Directions
by owari-kuroba
Summary: The dynamic between Haruhi and the boys is something best savoured lightly.  Happenings of the every-day kind through the lens of the always crazy host club.  Short and sweet drabbles from a so-so writer. enjoy.
1. Chapter 1: Kyouya

Chapter 1: Kyouya

Kyouya Ootori liked power. He usually knew exactly what he wanted. And he usually got it. _Usually._

Kyouya refused to associate himself with love. He considered love and those _types of things_ to be superficial in his life of power and control. He didn't want to, no, _he refused to be, _swept along in the sweetness and uncontrollable feelings of love.

_No, it can't be. _He swept off those soft feelings whenever he saw Haruhi.

_Anyway, if I wanted her, I could have her. I could have her at my knees if I wanted to. But I don't. Being with her has no merit. I know that already._

And with that, he convinced himself that he was absolutely fine.

Most of us who have ever been in love know that it is difficult, wait, _impossible, _to ignore it and keep walking.

Even if you were Kyouya Ootori.

He _usually _knew exactly what he wanted. And he _usually _got it. _Usually._

_x…_

From his desk in the third music room, Kyouya Ootori tapped away at his laptop.

To anyone who had the chance of looking at him, his gaze was completely fixed on the screen of the silver machine that seemed to be Kyouya's soul.

But Kyouya Ootori is a very sneaky and calculating man.

Somehow, he managed to steal a few glances at a certain brown-haired 'natural' type.

But he stopped.

_Why am I looking at her?_

Any sane person in this situation would have realised by now that they had some special feelings.

But Kyouya could be a very thick person sometimes.

He could be as thick as Tamaki when it came to love. Perhaps even more so.

_I'm probably just tired._

While Kyouya absentmindedly thought to himself, Haruhi managed to trip over with a tray of teacups.

A tray of very _expensive _teacups.

Being Kyouya Ootori, he should have instantly thought of cleaning bills and the cost of replacing those teacups.

But because he was so _tired_ today, he almost got up to help her.

_..x.._

Almost as a natural reaction, Haruhi picked herself up after cleaning the mess and rushed to Kyouya to hear the new and increased number that was her debt.

She stood in front of Kyouya, a nonchalant look on her face.

She stood too close.

Kyouya could feel the sweat building up.

_Um, yes. You will now owe an extra 67000-yen to cover the cost of damage and cleaning costs._

Haruhi leaned close and peered at his face.

_Kyouya-sempai, are you alright? You look as is you have a fever._

_No, I am fine. You should get back to your customers before I add more to your debt._

As Haruhi walked back to her customers, she wondered.

_I wonder if something is wrong with the Shadow King. When he was writing out my debt, he didn't sound as convincing as usual._

_Strange._

…_x_

Kyouya typed out:

_67000-yen._

After much pondering, he erased it and shut his laptop.

_Perhaps once, just this one time, I will let her off. She won't have to pay. But only this time._

According to his calculations, Kyouya Ootori must have been _very, very _tired that day.

Very tired indeed.

…_.x….x…_


	2. Chapter 2: Mori the bookmark

Chapter 2

What Haruhi really needed was a bookmark.

_x.x.x_

The Ouran High School Host Club was a book, and Haruhi sometimes needed a bookmark.

She would find herself confused and breathless, and needed to close the book and go outside for some fresh air.

Eventually she would come back to it, because although it was a crazy and annoying book, it was one she loved.

But she needed a bookmark. She needed to be able to keep her place, stay a part of the scene. She didn't want to forget, and she didn't want to be forgotten.

She looked and searched, but all she found was fancy teacups, stuffed toys and wisps of delicate love.

_x…_

_Haruhi, I'll take out the rest. _

_Okay._

_x._

Haruhi breathed in deeply. She had found her bookmark.

He was called Mori.


End file.
